


Waiting For the Sign

by ellerkay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Rough Sex, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a friend's prompt; she asked for Bellatrix and Damon with these lyrics from “The Winning Side” by Oingo Boingo as inspiration: "And the guiding light/Whether wrong or right/And we have no fear/No we have no fear/Waiting for the sign/We will give our lives/We will give our lives."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For the Sign

**Author's Note:**

> Set not long after Voldemort’s first downfall (i.e., the curse rebounded from baby Harry).

“Bite me,” she shrieked, bouncing on his cock, fingernails cutting so deep into his back that the half-moons filled with red. “Bite me, filthy vampire.”  
  
Well, that more or less settled it. She was probably crazy. There had been other signs. For one, sane women didn’t usually fuck this well. Damon felt the blood rush to his eyes; his fangs slid down and he buried them in her neck with a snarl, not bothering to be gentle. It turned out to be the right decision, because she screamed, shuddering, back arching in ecstasy, and then fell limp against his shoulder. Damon took a last, deep draught of her hot blood and then threw her down on the bed and fucked her hard until he came.  
  
He rolled off her and bit his wrist, holding it out to her. She looked at the beading blood with distaste.  
  
“Just a little. It’ll fix your neck,” Damon said.  
  
“You must be daft,” Bellatrix replied loftily. She picked up what looked like a bent stick from the bedside table, pointed at her throat, and muttered something in Latin. The holes closed.  
  
“You’re a witch,” Damon said. Bellatrix glared at him.  
  
“Of course I am,” she snapped. Damon sat up and searched the floor for his pants. When he located them, he fished out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He offered one to Bellatrix, who took it in her delicate fingers. Damon lit it for her before taking his own.  
  
“Disgusting Muggle habit,” Bellatrix said, examining the cigarette. She took another deep drag.  
  
“Then don’t smoke it,” Damon suggested. He didn’t know what a Muggle was, but deemed it prudent not to ask.  
  
“I have to,” Bellatrix said.  
  
“Why?”  
  
She was silent for a long moment. Her long hair was tangled around her face and her dark eyes flitted around the room, intent but unfocused. Damon was starting to wonder if she was too nuts to answer when she spoke.  
  
“Did you ever love someone so much…so much that you’d give your life for them?” she whispered fiercely. “That you would do anything – anything – that they commanded?” Her face was shining with the light of a brainwashed cult member  
  
“Yes.” The thought of Katherine, as always, made Damon’s chest ache. He imagined her trapped in the tomb, starving and desiccated, in agony for a hundred years now –  
  
“He died.” Bellatrix’s words interrupted Damon’s thoughts. Her hand was shaking as she raised the cigarette to her lips. “I should have done something – been there – ” Tears fell from her eyes, which were wide in a thousand-yard stare.  
  
Despite his better instincts, Damon put a hand on her shoulder. The touch seemed to bring her back to earth, and she jerked away. She stubbed her cigarette out on her thigh matter-of-factly. It made Damon grimace just to watch it, and smell her charred flesh, but she didn’t even flinch.  
  
“Penance,” she said, flicking the butt at Damon’s face. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be aggressive or playful. “Little Muggle death sticks. Fucking vampires. Letting them feed off me. I’ve come up with all sorts of things. I don’t deserve to be pure anymore.” She jerked her head towards the door. “Get out.”  
  
Damon pulled on his clothes without replying, figuring he was probably lucky to get out of there so easily. He paused in the doorway and glanced back at Bellatrix. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and she looked very small in the middle of the huge four-poster bed. Damon could see tears in her eyes again. He started to walk out – hesitated – turned back.  
  
“Was there a body?” he asked. Bellatrix’s head snapped to look at him. Damon shrugged.  
  
“Sometimes, they turn out not to be dead,” he continued. “I’m just saying. It happened to me. Maybe you’ll get lucky, too.”  
  
He left the bedroom. Bellatrix stared after him, unmoving, heart suddenly beating painfully hard in her chest.


End file.
